


For Every Action - A Play in Three Acts

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-17 16:51:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16099799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: War Years - When it was all over, Actor had the last word.  "You know, Craig, I think Goniff might have been right in his summation during our little adventure on the farm.  It just might BE safer across the Channel!"





	1. Forty Eight Hour Leave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: A forty-eight hour pass promises untold delights for the team, and some much needed peace and quiet for Lieutenant Craig Garrison. The invasion of Hotel Marchant by a group of men intent on a kidnapping spoils all their plans. Somehow it was only fitting that they spoil a few plans in return, and there was no one better qualified!

It was all planned out, one hell of a forty-eight hour pass! The guys were geared up and ready; Meghada had cleared her calendar to join them, well, for at least some of the activities. Even Garrison had joining them at Hotel Marchant this time; oh, not sharing a room in the private section which formed a portion of the third floor. He had no intention of spoiling their fun, but rooms at the other hotels were in short supply, so he'd resolved to just play least-in-sight unless he was needed, and the proprietor had found him a room on the second floor. 

Funny, he'd not been able to come up with any special plans for himself, certainly none as interesting as the guys probably had in mind, he admitted to himself. Of course, he hadn't specifically inquired as to their plans; he figured he was probably better off that way, and it wasn't like they would have welcomed him joining them. {"Well, of course not, and it's not like I'd WANT to!"}.

In fact, increasingly he found himself alone, not a part of any 'set', not really. After all, he rarely gambled, wasn't fond of loud, rough bars, was already inflicted with more socialization than he wanted, courtesy of HQ, and the usual ladies he might have approached, whether in the military, government or society circles, well they had lost their appeal once he'd started this particular job, once he realized just how much a risk he was, and truthfully, how much a risk they might be. They were quickly finding out the dangers on THIS side of the Channel could be just as intimidating, if not usually as loud, as those on the other side.

That there were other reasons he wasn't pursuing some of the pleasures others in his position might have, well, some of those he acknowledged - such as just how much his detractors in HQ would have loved to catch him in some activity they could frame in a bad light, putting his mission and his guys in danger - and one, maybe two he steadfastly put out of his mind and ignored; he was getting rather good at that. Lynn had told him once, only half teasing, that he could get drenched in a rainstorm and convince himself he hadn't even gotten damp. SHE'D called it self-delusion; HE'D retorted firmly that that wasn't it at all - it just showed a firm resolution of the mind. He remembered she'd almost fallen over laughing at that bit of nonsense.

He'd rather ruefully admitted to himself that his weekend sounded downright dull, full of empty gaps between those couple of times he'd been invited to join Meghada and the guys for meals or that performance of that supposedly hilarious and more than a little risque new musical comedy at the theatre, Meghada's treat. Of course, there was the military section of The Main Library of the Army/Navy Club; that was always well worth a few hours. And The British Museum had its attractions.

Perhaps not exactly wildly exciting, but still, forty-eight hours without having to be constantly on guard, in charge - that was special, and he intended to savor every minute he was allowed of it. Considering his guys, he figured that would be a hell of a lot less than forty-eight hours, but he was willing to accept what he could get. (He'd look back and shake his head at how quickly everything had gone to hell in a handbasket. And for once, it wasn't even the guys' fault!)

The attempted kidnapping of the American Senator's children, Chrissie and Jack Ford Jr, ages twelve and ten respectively, brought that whole beautiful plan of a leisurely, uneventful weekend to a screeching halt about 2 AM of their first night there.

Why the kidnappers had thought they could pull that off at Hotel Marchant without being noticed, no one really figured out. Maybe they weren't totally crazy, though; perhaps, if the Senator and his family had been on the first floor, even the second, they might have gotten away clean before anyone would interfere. And, after all, no one was conversant with the private sector on the third floor, its occasional guests, no one who didn't NEED to know, anyway. But that elegant suite WAS on the third floor, not in the private section, certainly, but in the VIP section off a different hallway, close enough so that when the girl had screeched, (and she had a voice like a steam whistle!) the guys had surged out of their beds, into their clothes and out of their rooms and straight into the mayhem.

Meghada and Goniff were first on the scene, Meghada's room being right next to the joining door to the public section, and both of them still awake at the time the girl's scream had shattered their mood so abruptly.

By the time Garrison came surging up the stairs, it was a standoff, the intruders holding the children as well as an extremely informally dressed Meghada, with a bloodied Goniff, clad only in trousers and an unbuttoned shirt, sprawled on the floor. The other guys, as well as other guests, were there, but the guns at the heads of the two children and the young woman kept the team from rushing them, especially after a warning shot almost clipped one of the guests who thought to make a move, and Garrison slowly moved away from the stairs as directed, letting them all pass freely. He caught only a fast glimpse of the rest of his team as they disappeared down a different set of stairs, Goniff surging to his feet cursing, only delaying long enough to grab his shoes before racing after them.

"Come on, lady, get a move on!" the dark-haired snapped, giving her a shove toward the waiting car. Meghada forced the proper glare onto her face, not one the Dragon would use on someone like him, but one an ordinary young lady would be more likely to wear.

"There is a limit to how fast I can travel considering I'm only wearing slippers," she protested. In truth she could have discarded the thin slippers and still kept up with them just fine, but she was trying to keep with the image she'd tried so hard to give them. And besides, the soles each held a couple of deadly throwing points, which she might just need before this was all over.

She focused on the image in her mind - a young lady, awoken by screams, perhaps slightly dazed, certainly out of her depth, clad only in a dainty robe of cotton and Guipure lace and heavily-brocaded ribbons running from shoulder to elbow, more lace at the wrists, and, of course, those thin slippers. It was a deceptive picture, of course; the robe was made to her own design, and if the positioning of the lace and wide stiff ribbons seemed odd, well, the effect DID disguise those thin stiletto blades in the built-in sheaths below. She'd reluctantly discarded her small lady pistol as being too far in contrast to that image, though that still left the garotte built into the sash, and there were those tiny buttons with their own secret, as well as . . . Well, sufficieth to say, the garment was much more in line with her reputation than Casino had thought, when he'd first caught sight of it. She might not always sleep with her blades, particularly when she had company, but she was never far from them. In fact, the times she HAD worn them along with their arm sheaths to bed, her Englishman hadn't seemed to mind at all, just grinned in appreciation, as he did at her medallion.

She spared a worried thought for Goniff, remembering that blood, but thought he'd not been too badly injured. His blue eyes had seemed alert when he'd given her that tiny nod, the signal, before he let the vagueness fill them and slumped to the floor. Someone who didn't know him well could easily mistake that for a severe injury, certainly one that would keep him from being a danger to them. 

She'd watched carefully, willing to let this play out; that is, unless one of the men made a move to eliminate the Englishman permanently. If she'd seen anything like that coming, well, all bets were off.

Luckily, they'd been content to gather up her along with the kids, keeping everyone else back with the threat of their guns. She'd seen the tiny signals from the guys, knew they'd be coming after them; meanwhile, she just needed to delay as much as she could, keep the kids safe, and be ready to make a move when it all exploded. The children were seemingly in a state of shock, wide-eyed, not making a sound; well, certainly better that, at least for now, than raging hysterics that would prompt a swift retaliation from the hard men who'd kidnapped them from their beds. Thrust into the back of that car, another following right along behind, they sped off to whatever destination their captors had in mind. Meghada refrained from glancing to the rear, but knowing the guys wouldn't be far behind. She didn't know who these men were, but they were going to sorely regret their actions this night - that is, if they survived long enough.

Henri Marchant and two of his most trusted men had responded on the run to the sound of gunshots in his hotel, finding the third floor a riot of confusion. The usually locked door to the private section was standing ajar, other guests milling around, a highly annoyed Garrison ordering everyone back into their rooms with not too many listening til Henri joined in gently (or not so gently) pushing people toward the open doors. They started to comply when they realized if they left it to those two angry men, they'd just as likely not end up in the RIGHT room! It was obvious that neither Garrison nor Marchant really gave a damn; they just wanted the hallway cleared, now!

Casino came up the back stairs at a run, "got the license plate, Warden; Chief grabbed a car and is following, Goniff's with him; Actor's in another car trailing along, so's one a them can report back to get us started if they switch cars." He looked worried, remembering the blood the Englishman had been trying to staunch. "Goniff got clipped upside the head, looks like; he's leaking, but still upright, and pissed as hell."

Garrison nodded, "yeah, I'd think so; Meghada still in place? Still acting like the helpless hostage? Can't make any other sense of her allowing them to get the drop on her, other than trying to keep the kids safe til we get there! And she could hardly start a pitched battle here in the hallway with all the civilians milling around."

Casino snorted at the idea of the Dragon as a 'helpless hostage', "yeah, 'helpless, harmless', that's what I'VE always called her, I know!" getting a grim smile of acknowledgement from both Garrison and Marchant.

"Don't know how, but she's playing the part like a champ. Seems they figure she only tried to grab the kids away because she had Goniff with her; probably figured he was calling the shots, and once he went down, she just kinda wilted. Well, that cotton robe, or wrap, of hers, or whatever the hell you call it, kinda gave that impression, all ribbons and lace, sweet and dainty. Not exactly what we're used to seeing her in, ya know; I swear she looked about like she was not much more than a kid herself, big wide scared eyes, trembling lips. What a con! Doubt she has her blades on her, unless she sleeps with them, though knowing her, she just might! Remind me to ask Goniff about that later." That was a little worrisome, her being unarmed (if she WAS), but they both knew the Dragon was plenty dangerous even without her usual retinue of weaponry.

Garrison quickly filled an appalled Henri Marchant in on the abduction, the description of the two children immediately telling the hotelier who they were. Garrison accompanied Marchant to the suite the children and their parents had been staying in, the one on the same floor, but off that separate hallway to the left, VIP quarters. The guard outside the door was just coming around, seemingly having been unconscious from a blow to the head, though Garrison had his suspicions there - the guy's eyes just didn't look right for that. Hell, he'd seen enough head injuries, concussions to know the signs. He'd deal with that later, though slipping a quiet word to Henri. Marchant, a knowing and very capable man, motioned to one of his assistants, and under the guise of getting the guard medical attention, made sure he was also kept confined til Garrison could spare the time to deal with him and his possible involvement. 

Inside the sumptuous suite, the door to the children's room was standing open, the one to Senator and Mrs. Ford's was closed, with a heavy sideboard pushed against the entrance, keeping it closed. From the banging on the other side and the yelling, the parents were awake, but unable to get out. The men pushed the heavy piece of furniture to one side, and Senator Ford almost fell into their arms as the double doors opened so suddenly. Garrison ducked a wild swing before he could make the man understand they were on the same side. They could see Mrs. Ford frantically on the telephone, explaining what had happened to whoever she'd called on to get help, probably the front desk. By the time the scene was under control, Actor had reported back; the kidnappers had gone to ground not three miles away, still unsuspecting they'd been tailed, or that they had a team of highly-qualified, very dangerous men right behind them. Garrison made a couple of quick calls, left Marchant with strict instructions, firmly rejected Senator Ford's notion of accompanying them, and he and Casino headed out to join the others. 

"Ei, Chiefy, w'at the 'ell are they up to? Grabbing a couple a kids like that; that's just wrong!"

Chief glanced over at the Englishman, who'd finally stopped dripping blood, "yeah, well, we did the same, least with one, remember."

Goniff protested, "weren't the same thing at all, Chiefy! Didn't intend to 'urt the boy, just needed some leverage; you know that!"

That got a cynical shrug, "maybe it's the same with them; don't know what they're up to. Maybe it's ransom, maybe it's political, maybe it's personal, who knows. Don't know who the kids are, who their folks are."

Goniff acknowledged that, but still not happy about it; really, he'd never felt right about their having snatched that German officer's boy either, even though he'd accept the Warden's plan. Well, in the field, they pretty much ALL accepted the Warden's plans, even when they argued or groused about them; wasn't like they had a hell of a lot of choice.

"Anyway, Chiefy, we tried not to scare that kid; didn't let 'im see the bad stuff. Them, they started yelling and shooting their guns off, shoving people outta the way. Kids must be scared stiff by now!" Still, he knew Meghada was in there with them, would do everything she could to keep them safe til the team could pull the rug out from under the kidnappers.

It would have been hard for anyone to put together a clear picture of what happened; there were too many things happening at the same time. Chrissie's account to her parents later seemed to cover the basic points, though.

"The lady seemed scared too, just like we were, but she kept us with her, and the couple of times one of the men tried to slap me or Jack for being too slow, she got between so they hit her instead. I thought they were going to shoot her, maybe all of us, but they just let her get us back into a corner. She was in front of us, then there was yelling and shots, and she told us to get down on the ground and stay there, and then she wasn't acting scared anymore, she was acting like she was really mad! She was ripping at the sleeves of her robe and there were knives under the ribbons, then she threw them and two of the ones who'd grabbed us fell. She'd yelled something, and two of the new men ran over to us, and she told them to get us out of there, and to keep us from seeing any more than we had to. The taller one grabbed me, and the other man grabbed JJ and they picked us up and ran. I peeked, or tried to, but the one who had me told me 'No, cara, you don't need to see or remember any of that," and made me turn my head into his shirt. They were really kind to us; mine was called Actor; Casino was the one carrying JJ. They got us to the car, and then the four others came out. The woman's clothes were all bloody, but I don't think she was hurt, not like a couple of them were; at least, she was fussing over them, not the other way around. Then we all came back here and you were waiting." 

The Senator and his wife tried to make sense out of all of that, but weren't making much headway, even with putting it together with what Major Richards had told them earlier - that Garrison and his men were an elite team of Allied operatives who'd been quartered down the hall, purely by chance, and were already in pursuit of the kidnappers and the children. Well, the kidnappers, the children, and a young woman also present who'd gotten involved for the sake of the children.

Richards didn't think it was necessary to share any more information about Meghada than the bare basics, not about her role in the Allied operations, past or present, especially not about her questionable alliance with Garrison and his team. While there were certainly people who knew, far more than Richards was comfortable with, actually, he saw no reason to expand that field, especially to an American politician and his wife, even if Olivia Ford was a friend to his sister Julie. If nothing else, Senator Ford and his wife knew they owed a deep debt of gratitude to the rescuers, especially to a young woman who didn't HAVE to get involved. 

Senator Ford expounded on that later when they were alone, perhaps in a somewhat stodgy, even judgemental fashion.

"Of course, Olivia, the men had a duty to attempt to foil such an attempt; as Richards explained, they ARE connected with the military in some fashion. But the young woman, that's a different story. I'll have to think on that, come up with something fitting as a reward for her." Olivia wasn't so sure of that, at least not the first part, though she certainly agreed with the latter, but decided to revisit the subject later, once the children had been taken care of properly.

By the time they all got back to the hotel, Kevin Richards and a contingent of his men were there. The children were gathered into the eager arms of their parents, and rushed away to be cossetted and hugged repeatedly. Richards took a long look at the group sagged into the various chairs in the room Marchant had set up for them to use as a debriefing area.

"If I didn't have the reports on the condition of the kidnappers, I'd say from your appearance that you'd LOST that battle," noting the blood matting in Goniff's ashen blond hair, similar stains showing on Garrison's and Casino's shirts. His eyes lingered on Meghada, the only one still standing, feet bare now, her long red hair hanging loose around her, that formerly creamy white robe with the faint trace of green embroidery looking like she'd been slaughtering chickens with a fervor. Well, the one man had come in too close to take out with a throw; she'd had to resort to slashing his throat from the front with a pair of throwing points clutched sideways in her fist, and he HAD rather spurted!

Now Richards raised a calmly questioning brow, "are you auditioning for the lead in one of the more violent opera's, my dear? 'Medea' perhaps? 'Macbeth?' I think there is a place that somehow missed being splattered with gore, there on the right side."

He ignored the irritated snarl from Goniff at the implied criticism, noting only the snort of weary amusement from the Dragon.

"Yes, must have overlooked that spot. Look, Kevin, I know we have to report, but I really would like to sit down, and if I do, poor Henri is going to have a devil of a job cleaning the upholstery, and I have to admit the smell is getting to me. Do you think . . .?"

Richards looked at her, sighed, "Henri, can you fetch something for the lady to change into?"

"Certainly."

"Henri, I don't have anything else in my travel case. Perhaps your shop has something? You will put it on my bill, of course," referencing the small but rather elegant gift shop Hotel Marchant maintained.

"I believe I can manage that, Miss O'Donnell," he replied, and left quickly. 

When he returned, the shimmering black satin and lace robe, if that's what it was, over one arm, towels over the other, bearing a basin of water with a bar of lavender soap, along with a hair brush, the men turned their backs, shared a drink and quiet conversation while she made some hasty repairs. When she sighed and told them, "that's better! Not perfection, but not quite so reminiscent of the slaughter house," they turned back.

Richards cleared his throat sharply at the view of the young woman, face and hands scrubbed clean, long curling red hair vibrant against the black robe, rather wishing Marchant had chosen something more . . . Well, perhaps something less . . . Oh, well!

The deep V of the wide collar, the wide unlined lace panel under her bosom, tracing her curves, let a good deal of her pale skin show through, and the garment, although tied closely at the waist, had long slits up the sides, revealing rather more of her legs than he was comfortable with. He took a repressive glance around the room, but found Chief and Garrison steadfastly keeping their eyes on her face, Actor trying hard to do the same, trying even harder to keep from revealing his surprise at this new image of her. Casino, of course, was taking it all in, at least til a sharp, "Ruddy 'ell, Casino! Stop that!!" brought his focus upward. The knowing grin never left his face, though.

As for Goniff, now that he'd let his opinion be known about Casino's roving eyes, HE was looking his fill, though with a disapproving frown.

"Don't much fancy that, 'Gaida. Makes you look, I don't know, offputting somehow. Cold, 'arsh. Not you at all!" getting some odd looks from the other men in the room.

From the young woman, he only got a small serene smile, along with a reassuring, "don't worry, laddie. I'll take it off as soon as we get back upstairs," and that caused the Englishman to let out a low laugh of approval of that sentiment, if not of the garment in question.

"I'll look forward to that, I will."

Richards cleared his throat sharply, letting HIS disapproval of that little exchange be widely known, but the laughs from the other guys drowned him out. He sighed, "shall we get down to business now?"

The report was made, the guard questioned and admitted he'd been bribed to look the other way and just make it look like he'd been overpowered. Of the kidnappers, the ones that survived told a story of a political rivalry carried to extreme and a revenge plot gone haywire.

Richards had just shaken his head, "totally mad, of course! To kidnap two children just to keep your political rival from taking the seat on a Congressional Committee you had your eye on! Totally mad!"

By the time it was all over and done, the night had turned to day, the day to evening again, with no one having gotten any sleep, though Henri Marchant had made sure they all had food and drink at proper intervals. 

Richards had just left, after a short conversation with Garrison at the doorway. Garrison looked at his watch, "better get some sleep, everyone. We have to show up at HQ in the morning, make at least one more telling of this little adventure. Then, we'll just have time for a quick lunch before we head out. I just got word; the rest of our leave's been cancelled; we have a mission. Sorry about the theatre, Meghada; it's not going to happen, not this trip."

It was a weary crew that made their way back upstairs, Garrison trailing along more out of habit than anything else, seemingly having forgotten his room was one floor down. They were all amused to see that, this time, Goniff didn't even make a pretense of going back to the next room over that he was sharing with Casino, just led Meghada straight to her door, ushered her in, and followed her inside.

The door hadn't even quite closed when they heard his firm voice, "now, 'Gaida, about that robe," followed by a warm laugh, and an even warmer voice, "aye, about that robe. Is this better?" receiving a delighted "ruddy 'ell, yes!"

Casino just shook his head, looked at the rest of them, "I tell you . . ."

"Yes, Casino, we know. You're never going to understand those two. Come on, guys, let's get some sleep."

Chief let out a rare laugh, "yeah, Casino. Good luck with that; they're right next door to you this time, ya know."

And Casino, remembering all Chief had told them, groaned loudly, "sure someone don't wanna switch with me?" Unsurprisingly, no one did.


	2. 'The Best Weekend Ever'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Senator Ford attempts to deliver a reward for the foiling of the attempted kidnapping of his children, he fails miserably. His wife, the lovely Olivia Ford, takes control and comes up with a much better plan - 'the best weekend ever!' Whether or not it was truly that, it certainly made points with everyone on the receiving end, and there were absolutely no complaints. Complications, perhaps, down the road, but no real complaints, well, until that last night. But that's another part of the play.

"Somehow I'm not sure she is enjoying herself as much as I'd intended," he'd confessed, though how that could be he just didn't understand. He explained to his lovely wife, who had just arrived, all he'd arranged, all the thought and effort he'd put into it, this event being only the beginning of two days of pleasurable activities any young woman would surely appreciate. He hadn't involved Olivia because she'd been occupied with getting the children, under guard of course, to a place of greater security at the home of a good friend who knew and loved the children and would keep them out of sight. That kidnapping attempt had shaken them all, and they were taking no chances.

Well, he was well acquainted with what pleased a woman; certainly his wife was most appreciative of the little pleasures and outtings he made a point of arranging for her. He'd rather enjoyed the project, to tell the truth; he was quite proud of his efforts, but now, watching Meghada O'Donnell, somehow was unsure of his success. He'd almost gotten the impression from Major Richards that if there hadn't been considerable pressure from the military to accept his invitation, she might have turned down the whole experience entirely.

"Why, from the expression on the Major's face, you would have thought the whole notion rather worried him. He even vetoed a few of my ideas quite strongly, the candy and the champagne and the shopping excursion to that little boutique you've been lauding so and the services of that rather renowned hair stylist, and I acquiesced since he seems to know her quite well, but still I think she would have enjoyed . . ."

Olivia studied the young woman across the room, mingling with a polite smile on her face. Olivia had spent some time earlier in the day with a mutual friend, Julie Richards, and knew perhaps more about the true feelings behind that polite smile than most would have been privy to, certainly more than her husband.

"Jack darling, were you trying to arrange a weekend she'd truly relish, one she'd remember with a smile long into the future? One that would be both a reward for her actions, and one that would make up for the holiday that was ruined? Or were you trying to arrange an impressive-sounding weekend, one you could remember with pride at your generosity, perhaps could relate to your colleagues as a fine and fitting reward for her actions on the behalf of our children? One that perhaps reflects more on YOU and your taste and sophistication than on HER interests and desires?"

The abashed look on his face told her she'd guessed correctly.

Olivia knew her husband quite well, knew he had a kind heart and meant well, but also often avoided thinking about matters from any but his own point of view. Now, Jack Ford, Senator John K. Ford, flushed and tried to defend his plan.

"But Olivia! Surely she must enjoy what I put in place? How could she not?? You certainly would have! The very finest of select activities and entertainments, I assure you! I spared no effort, no expense, you know!"

Olivia nodded in wifely understanding. "Yes, dear, I'm sure. You have never been a penny-pincher, nor ungrateful when someone does you a service, especially a service as immense as the one she and the others rendered us. But I had lunch with a mutual friend, and heard quite a bit about the weekend she had planned, the one she lost while helping Chrissie and Jack Jr. I assure you, it was something quite different than these ever-so-elite activities and entertainments you arranged. Look at her! The poor thing is miserable! Why don't I go extricate her from her suffering and allow her to go home? All your planning will not go to waste; you and I will enjoy all the activities you put so much thought into, and I'll arrange something far more to her liking." 

While Jack Ford truly didn't understand, he did have to admit there was something more than a little forced about the polite conversation the redhead was engaged in with the cream of the political elite at that ever-so-elegant social event, a certain tightness to her eyes that told him his wife was probably right. The way her right fist kept clinching to the point her knuckles were showing white was rather telling as well. The relief in those odd gold-brown, really amber-colored eyes {"like a wildlife photograph from National Geographic, actually, of one of the large predators, a wolf, maybe a leopard or something similar!"} when his wife stepped closer and had a quiet word, the dignified yet eager way in which the young woman made her departure assured him of that fact.

He did bring up the subject over the breakfast plates the following morning, listening to her plan with some trepidation.

"But, why a forty-eight hour leave for this Garrison and his team? I thought we were supposed to be rewarding Miss O'Donnell? Surely, the actions Lieutenant Garrison and his men undertook would have been expected, part of their duty. She, on the other hand, was hardly under any obligation to take part, put herself at such risk, not like they were, simply because of their role with the military." 

Olivia didn't have all the details either, not specifics anyway, but Julie had made some things perfectly clear, though had been oddly vague on others. Well, Julie knew the young woman quite well, it would seem, and if she was trying to be discreet about delicate matters, Olivia wasn't going to press.

"Jack, my dear, just trust me. The best thing we could do to show our appreciation would be to recreate the two days that were PLANNED, planned for ALL of them, and leave them all to enjoy it, for as I understand it, she wouldn't enjoy any such reward that didn't include them. Well, recreate it in a more lavish fashion, of course. After all, merely replacing what was lost would only be the bare minimum of what should be done. No, let me set it up properly."

"Oh, very well. What are your plans for the day, while I am in my meetings? Do you have enough money about you?"

"Julie Richards and I have a little shopping in mind. We'll probably have lunch at a tea room somewhere. And yes, I'll be drawing on our line of credit rather heavily; try not to be TOO annoyed, my love. I'll see you at dinner."

Replicating and enhancing that botched forty-eight hours - that was the goal. And with the help of Julie Richards, Olivia Ford did just that. When a puzzled Lieutenant Craig Garrison and his men arrived at Hotel Marchant, as specifically ordered by Major Kevin Richards, (at the specific behest of the Ford family, though they knew nothing about that), they found rooms reserved for them in the private section, only this time, a room for EACH of them, no one sharing, along with a small combination library/sitting room. Garrison, Actor, Chief, Casino, then the sitting room, Goniff - with the one next to that reserved for Meghda, hopefully, if she could see her way clear. Julie firmly intended to see that Meghada occupied that room. 

Henri Marchant had discreetly whispered that the rooms were already paid for, "indeed, all expenses are being covered, Lieutenant. Within reason, of course," the stocky Frenchman cautioned, getting a wry grin of acknowledgement in return. Yeah, with the guys, you DID need to set some limits! An all-out brawl could cause enough damage to break any bank! Room service menus were left on the tables, with a note in a delicate hand explaining that "while all meals have already been arranged, perhaps you might require something betimes. Simply let Mr. Marchant know when you would like your meals to be served, and anything else you might require; he has assured us he and his staff are at your service." The note was signed 'Jack and Olivia Ford'. There were small portable bars in each room, well-stocked, as well.

There was a small envelope on the table in the sitting room, and Garrison shook his head over the contents, handing it over to Actor. The tall Italian's brows lifted in appreciation, "nothing so crass as money, but quite well thought-out," reading aloud the note announcing the reservation for a private box at the symphony for the following evening, something he thought they might all enjoy.

"Nice," admitted Casino, but with a firm disclaimer, "dont know I'd go calling hard cash 'crass', but still nice."

Chief wasn't sure about that either, but he held up the envelope he'd found on his pillow in his room, a match for one in each of the other rooms, he'd discovered upon checking.

"Think they wanted to play it safe, Pappy. We each got one a these too. Not shabby at all," splaying out the bills for them to get a good look. No, certainly not shabby.

Meghada's orders had come from Julie, delivered with a giggle, "Hotel Marchant, and Olivia Ford told me she firmly expects you, all of you, to enjoy every last minute! Well, I don't have any doubts, not unless some other emergency intervenes, and I certainly hope it doesn't. Well, not that it wasn't totally fortuitous that you and the guys were there when those awful men tried to grab the Ford children, but hopefully there will be no crises for the next two days! Now, I think the dark blue dress and wrap should go with you, just in case, you know."

Meghada listened with a suspicious frown on her face. "Julie . . ." she said warningly. "What are you NOT telling me?"

That got an innocent look, one Meghada didn't believe for a moment, and then with a laugh Julie confessed to at least part of what Olivia Ford had arranged, along with what Julie herself had arranged. Yes, the dark blue dress, certainly.

When Meghada walked into her own room, her look of wary apprehension changed to one of sheer feminine appreciation at the sight of the exceedingly elegant mixture of solid, translucent and transparent bronze silk (admittedly very little of the solid) making up that garment, negligee? laid out so carefully across the bed. Running her hand over the material, seeing the secrets hidden behind the whole, reading the little note tucked underneath, she exclaimed, "Good grief!!!", then threw back her head and laughed. "Oh, this is going to be such fun!"

"Ei, 'Gaida! Thought I 'eard you! You'll never guess . . ." and his voice stopped, his eyes riveted to that bronze confection. "Blimey!!!" and his voice came out more raspy than usual, as if his throat had tightened.

"What's all the ruckus?" Casino demanded as he and the others trailed in. Goniff gulped, not knowing what to say, not really sure he wanted any of the guys to see that whatever the heck that was supposed to be, damn sure he didn't want them imagining Meghada wearing it; that black satin robe had been bad enough!

"Nothing, Casino. Come on, let's let 'Gaida get settled in. We're in the sitting room two doors over, other side of my room, 'Gaida," and he bustled the others out of the room flapping his hands like they were a flock of ducks. The others exchanged amused grins; yeah, they'd all gotten a good look at that lush bit of whimsey, and knew exactly why Goniff was so eager to have them leave. Garrison headed back to his room to make a phone call or two, telling them he'd be right back.

Actor poured a drink for each of them, noting the slightly puzzled frown on Goniff's face, the rapidly blinking blue eyes, as he kept looking back in the direction of Meghada's room. Casino saw it as well, and couldn't resist pulling his chain. Pestering Goniff was one of his favorite hobbies, after all.

"Never figured the Dragon for that sort of slinky stuff, ya know?" He watched in satisfaction as their pickpocket took the lure.

Almost as if he was talking to himself, Goniff nodded and added, "don't seem like the kinda thing she'd buy; where'd she even find something like that??! Seems a bit much even for the shop downstairs."

Actor shot him a quick look of amused disdain, "many women of taste and distinction and a certain level of refinement know where to find garments of equal style and sophistication, Goniff."

Casino was watching Goniff's troubled face with growing amusement and took the opportunity to stir the pot a little more.

"Yeah, yeah, Beautiful. But we're talkin the Dragon here, not one a yer fancy dames. Bet she didn't buy it for herself; bet someone else bought it for her. Wonder who, and when he's gonna show up to get a good look, see how she looks wearin it, huh??!"

Chief had been sipping his drink carefully, and while it had been amusing enough when it started, the look of increasing bewilderment and growing misery on their pickpocket's face made him think twice. Sometimes Goniff overthought a situation, and it usually caused trouble, one way or another; and since Casino never thought these things through enough, in Chief's opinion, he figured to put a stop to it before it got bad.

"Put a sock in it, Pappy," he suggested firmly.

Casino just got a stubborn look, "now look, Indian. Aint you just a little curious? I mean, from the looks of it, it sure as hell wasn't the Limey here. She aint Actor's type. I know it wasnt me or you. Figure Richards would have a stroke at the whole notion. So . . ." 

"Who did it come from? That's easy," came from the doorway as Garrison was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, watching with interest, wearing a smug, knowing look on his face.

Goniff's eyes widened with shock and dismay, couldn't help a quick protest, "ei, Warden, no . . ."

Garrison just smiled into those hazy blue eyes, in sympathy now, and shook his head, "no, not me. She'd twist my head off if I even tried giving her something like that, much less expect her to let me see her in it, you should know that, Goniff! You could get away with it, maybe, but I can't see any other guy living to tell about it. I expect it came from the same place as the rooms and the meals and the tickets and the 'allowance' envelopes; Senator Ford's wife, Olivia. I was a little curious about all this, made a call to Major Richards. You know how things aren't always what they seem; wanted to make sure we weren't stepping into trouble somehow, like we did with the farm and that bank job. Seems the Senator tried to reward Meghada earlier and bombed out, since his idea seemed to have her mixing with the elite for a long weekend, and you KNOW how she feels about all that! Well, his wife knows Julie Richards, they had a little talk and Mrs. Ford took over the job to get it done right. She figured we deserved a reward too, and with a little prompting from Julie, came up with this scheme."

Chief gave a rare smile of his own, nodding in agreement to Goniff, who was rapidly losing that air of misery.

Casino snorted in annoyance, "aw hell, Warden! You jumped in too soon; I really had him goin, ya know??!"

Garrison and Actor exchanged resigned eye-rolls at Casino and his penchant for roiling the works. Chief looked at Goniff again, and yes, the look of misery was being quickly replaced by an eager grin of anticipation. 

Very early the next morning, Casino knocked briskly, just one fast double-knock before yanking open the door to Goniff's room. If he'd intended to surprise anyone, he managed to surprise only himself, since the room was empty.

"Shit!"

"Trouble, Casino?" Chief asked from the sitting room door.

"Figured maybe I'd get a quick look at that bronze silky thing she was wearin if I was quick enough," Casino frowned in disgust at his lack of luck.

Chief jerked his chin at a small scrap of bronze silk on the floor, then waving his hand at the additional small piles of matching material leading in a somewhat meandering path from the center of Goniff's room to the closed door in the far wall. The last piece seemed to be half-way into the next room.

"What the hell are you guys up to?" Garrison demanded, only to see the trail of silk and was startled into a quick laugh. They watched as the last piece of silk disappeared from the room with a quick snap, only to be followed by the door being yanked open by an amazingly cheerful Englishman with a wide grin on his face. 

"Ei, mates. Lovely morning, aint it! 'Ere, just let me . . . " as he quickly gathered all the silky bronze pieces into his hand and gave them a gentle toss into the room behind him, closing the door softly.

"Now, Meghada 'as some shopping to do; w'at say we 'ave some breakfast?" all with a deceptively innocent nonchalance that fooled no one.

Casino just had to ask, "what the hell did you do, ya dumb Limey?? That was all in one piece when we saw it! There musta been seven, eight different pieces there!!"

Goniff just widened his blue eyes, blinking rapidly, "twelve, all told. Funny thing, there's this little snap, and once you undo one piece, the next just kinda slips, and there's another snap, then the next and well . . ." and the look of innocence disappeared into one of smug satisfaction, as the grin deepened and he looked back toward that connecting door. The deep feminine chuckle coming from that room next door was a match for that look, redolent of sheer smug satisfaction. 

The two-day holiday was starting out right, and with any luck, they'd all get through this one without experiencing any downside. The mood improved even more with the announcement that Julie Richards had arranged for them to occupy that same box for the musical comedy they'd missed the last time. So, yeah, including both the symphony AND the theatre would cut into their carousing time, but hey, they'd make the sacrifice, especially since the note had said they could each bring a guest to the theatre. ESPECIALLY since them each having their own room broadened the possibilities.

While Goniff had simply shrugged off the idea, Actor had immediately pulled out his little black book, and Casino and Chief were conferring about a couple of congenial women they'd met on one of their past leaves. Garrison had even considered who he might bring, but then decided against the notion; he'd have enough to do keeping an eye on the guys.

{"But then again, maybe Julie might enjoy . . ."}. The young woman could be tiring in her enthusiasm and odd starts, but pleasant enough in small doses. {"Yes, I might just give her a call; she'll know not to take it as more than it is. Can't imagine any complications there."} 

The only lingering concern came from Goniff, about a totally different subject, voiced around a bit of toast, "sure 'ope 'Gaida can figure out 'ow to put that all back together again, the bronzy thing, I mean. Better than a picture puzzle, it was; wouldn't mind another go at it sometime," with a rather wicked leer.

Casino just groaned, while the others laughed.


	3. Theatrical Performances - An Evening At The Theatre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was just an evening at the theatre, not even a serious play, just a musical comedy. Where had it all gone so wrong? HOW had it all gone so wrong??

Sometimes it just seemed like every move they made had some kind of repercussion, and that first forty-eight hour pass was a prime example. When Major Kevin Richards innocently asked if that second forty-eight hour leave, the one organized by Olivia Ford with considerable input from Julie Richards, had been enjoyable, "Hell, NO!" was the resounding answer from most, if not all the men in the room. In fact, Goniff was the only one with a nod and a wide smile on his face.

Richards had heard a lot of what was planned, was expecting to hear accolades by the dozens, certainly not that abrupt response. He frowned in puzzlement, "why ever not? It sounded at least highly adequate, if perhaps not to my own taste in all respects."

Garrison had a wry look on his face, "Major, there are several good reasons. In fact, several famous words come to mind." 

The Lieutenant paused to take a sip from his glass and Actor spoke up, with his usual superior manner, "for example, "for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction," as stated by Sir Isaac Newton."

"The best laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft a-gley", Garrison added, "Robert Burns."

Chief just looked glum, "every silver lining's got its own dark cloud hanging around somewhere."

That got him several puzzled looks, and Actor ventured to ask, "and who said that, if I might ask."

Chief glared, "clean out your ears, man. I did, just now!" That got a ripple of laughter, then it started again.

"No good deed goes unpunished," Casino snorted, reaching for his own glass. "Clare Boothe Luce," Goniff chimed in, getting several startled stares, then widening his blue eyes and shrugging his shoulders as if that was the OBVIOUS response.

"But I don't know w'at you're all complaining about. Sure, that first bit at the show was dodgy, but I thought the rest went just great!"

Casino glared, "yeah, well if the rest of us had been shacked up pretty much the whole time with a willing dame, all warm and soft and cozy like you were, maybe we'd think that too. But that aint what happened, now is it??!"

Goniff grinned, remembering exactly how it'd been, and had to admit the truth to that. Of course, he didn't see how their misery was any of HIS fault!

"Sit down, Major, and hear our tale of woe." Garrison reached out to pour Richards a splash of whiskey. "Well, our TALES, as it were. Forgive us if they are slightly edited; they are more than a little embarrassing in parts."

Richards sat back in his chair, intrigued, and listened. 

Casino started, "so, yeah, it was pretty damned good, all the way up to the theatre. I called up a dame I met a few months ago, Carla; hot, man! Long blonde hair, really built, ya know??! She was all fine with going, all excited, but when I went to pick her up, she wasn't ready. See, I'd forgot she was a talker. AND a giggler. And couldn't talk and chew gum at the same time! I had to sit while she finished getting ready, all the time telling me about people I didn't know, would probably never meet, stuff I really didn't give a shit about, askin silly questions about things that weren't any a her business. Didn't realize til she was finally ready, after I kept tellin her we was gonna be late, that she'd started taking a little nip of something from probably early afternoon. By the time we got there, she was stumblin over her own feet, and then started flirting hot and heavy with every guy in the box. Hell, even got real friendly with the guy bringing the programs! Halfway through the first act, she just shuts down, starts taking a little nap; kept having to make sure she didn't fall off her chair! Ended up propping her up against the wall! Hell of a way to spend an evening!"

He made no mention of the trip back home in the taxi, during which she'd reawakened, all fresh as a daisy and lookin to get frisky. They'd gone up to her flat, her all perky and chattering away, like everything was just fine. Sure, they'd ended up in bed, her idea, not his so much, and it was okay, not great but okay. But, somehow, he found himself wishing he'd just taken her home and headed back to the Hotel Marchant alone.

He'd thought about it, but knew Chief was intending to bring HIS date back there, and somehow, the idea of laying there listening to Chief and Dottie in the next room, maybe even hearing Goniff and Meghada on the far side of the sitting room, that was just depressing. Well, not so much the Goniff and Meghada part; that was confusing as hell, maybe, but it wasn't like he MINDED, just didn't understand the whole thing. With them, it was just that he was maybe a little envious, having someone you're that tight with. But Chief, yeah, that bothered him, and he didn't know why. He slipped out of the room, headed back to the hotel, hoping Chief's date had already left.

Actor went next. "Melinda, Lady Landsworth." He sighed with a combination of frustration and embarrassment.

"She's quite beautiful, of course," getting a resounding groan from around the room, along with an assorted sarcastic round of "of course!!!" He raised his head to a rather theatrical pose, pure aristocratic arrogance. "I had not seen her in some time, and had forgotten she can be rather, well . . . Sufficieth to say, the evening was not a success." He paused, flushed a little.

In fact, until recently Melinda's arrogant air of superiority had been an equal for his own; once her behavior would have been something he'd found acceptable, even expected, at least rather amusing. Somehow, though, her snide jabs at his team mates that night had made Actor feel, at first, awkward, then increasingly annoyed. He'd noted the flush on Chief's face when Melinda had quite openly pulled her fine skirts away to keep them from brushing against him, as if she thought he might dirty them somehow, or give her fleas. That barely suppressed sigh of impatience when Casino had laughed rather too loud at the punch line of a joke hadn't been particularly pleasing either, though if they'd been alone Actor would probably would have done the same. Still, it felt wrong coming from her.

Of course Melinda had been as gracious as could be with Craig and Julie Richards, if a little overly condescending, but that hardly made up for her little private whispers to Actor about Goniff and Meghada. Well, perhaps they DID seem an odd couple, and Goniff wasn't bothering to hide the brash and uneducated Cockney in him that evening, in fact, after the first comment from Melinda, he had rather seemed to flaunt it, but it was hardly for Melinda to comment, especially when a couple of those comments had obviously been pitched to be faintly overheard by the young redhead and the blond Englishman accompanying her.

The sly calculating look on Goniff's face hadn't boded well, and the steady warning gaze from Meghada (directed at Actor and the lady, NOT at Goniff) made Actor even more apprehensive. He'd tried, with a soft "Melinda, my dear. I hardly think . . ." but the approach of the waiter bearing a tray of champagne and canapes, along with a shot glass of what Actor realized, with some resignation, just HAD to contain bourbon or something similar intended for the Dragon, interrupted his gentle chiding.

He had turned to accept the two glasses of champagne and had turned back just in time to see disaster strike. Just in time to see Melinda Landsworth lean forward and in a not-quite-sotto-voce murmur, in a purring voice offer, "my DEAR Miss O'Donnell. The next time you are in need of an escort, please DO call me! I'm sure I can find someone suitable; there's REALLY no need to resort to . . ."

Actor closed his eyes in a wince, thus missing the accident that left that tray of filled champagne glasses and assorted tidbits ending up in Lady Landsworth's velvet clad lap.

"Oh my goodness! I'm so VERY sorry about that, Lady Landsworth!" came in quick apology, so obviously false as to be an absolute mockery from the young woman, "and after your EVER so generous offer!"

"You . . .! You . . .!" Melinda Landsworth leapt to her feet, brushing the debris from her no-longer elegant dress.

Goniff started to help, not even hiding that amused smile, "''ere, lovely lady, let me 'elp. 'Ave you all right and tight before you know it, ducks!" as Melinda pulled back from that proffered white handkerchief with a sob of fury which turned into what promised to be a rather intense temper tantrum.

The snicker coming from Casino probably hadn't helped her disposition, especially when neither Garrison or Julie seemed inclined to take her part, in fact were glaring rather fiercely at her. Chief's date was just staring, wide-eyed, and Casino's guest, well, she'd missed the whole thing, leaning sideways in her chair, being propped against the side wall.

Melinda had turned to Actor, obviously expecting him to take some dire action, and the only thing he could think of was to make their apologies and quickly escort her out, keeping an arm around her shoulders so she couldn't re-enter the box and continue her tirade. She'd made it clear all the way down to the entrance, how unacceptable his companions were, how his resultant behavior was an utter failure in her eyes. He ignored the stares they were receiving from the people they passed, getting her to the entrance post-haste. He rather doubted her opinion of him improved thereafter, as he quickly made his decision, hailed her a taxi, handed the driver a large bill and gave him Melinda's address.

"See her home, if you will. It would seem she has had a sudden bilious attack, so very unpleasant, you know."

He stood on the sidewalk and watched the taxi roar off, seeing Melinda's furious face in the back glass, her fist shaking at him. He considered his options, then shrugged and went back inside to order another bottle of champagne, along with another glass of bourbon, and rejoined the others in the newly swept-out box. The smiles of welcome he received had been rather heart-warming, and he settled down to an evening more enjoyable than it had looked to be at the start. Actually, when he thought about it, his bed might have been a empty one that night, but somehow that hadn't bothered him as much as he would have thought.

He brought his mind back to the men waiting for him to finish his story, but all he said was, "she took her leave rather early, during the first intermission in fact. I believe she was not feeling quite well; it seems something had not agreed with her."

Chief hadn't said anything, and Garrison wasn't sure he was going to. After all, for the most of the evening it looked like Chief and Dottie had gotten along just fine; he knew the young man had brought the pretty little woman back to the hotel, had spent the night with her in his room.

The shouting and crash of things being thrown hadn't started til early morning. He was too far away to hear the words, just her shrill voice shrieking and then the outright furious sobs as she slammed the bedroom door and disappeared down the hallway.

Now, Chief just stared into his glass, "let's just say the night coulda gone better." There was a finality to his voice that kept even Casino from pushing further.

Well, it wasn't like Chief was going to tell them the whole story; hell, it wasn't like he even UNDERSTOOD the whole story. Dottie had been happy to get his call, happy and pleased at the invitation. She'd been cuddlesome but never brash, soft and pliable and leaning into his arm, looking up at him at the theatre with an adoring smile. If it had felt a little 'off', more than a little sudden, since he'd only gone out with her a couple of times and just casual then, well, he just shrugged and overlooked that in favor of having a good time. She'd even been a good sport about Casino and his sleeping date, about Actor and the she-witch he'd brought; had been grateful for any pleasant words from Garrison and Julie, and seemed pleased with Goniff and Meghada's company and their kind welcome.

He'd taken a taxi back to the hotel, her close to his side, her making the point easily that she'd be more than pleased to spend the rest of the night with him. And yeah, it was good, he had to admit that. She was just eager enough, just a little shy, everything he could have asked, everything he wanted in a woman.

Til the morning, when she started talking about marriage, and settling down, and baby names, and he knew. He'd laid one hand on her slightly rounded abdomen and he knew she was setting him up for a quick trip to the alter, and if it wasn't him, it would have been someone else. Maybe ANYONE else, as long as it got settled real quick like. Yeah, maybe he'd been a little blunt, but hell, it wasn't like he was stupid, not like she'd thought he was anyway.

So, instead of a lazy morning cuddling, maybe a little easy loving, he got a screaming hissy fit, accusations that made no impression on him, especially since he'd never done anything more than kiss her on those other two dates, and even last night, well, he'd been well prepared.

After she'd slammed out of the room, banging the door with a crash that had to have woken everyone around if they hadn't already been awake, he lay back in the bed. A kid. Somehow, the thought of a kid, his kid, struck a chord, and he hadn't been expecting that. Maybe, someday, with the right woman, but it didn't seem too likely. He knew it sure wouldn't be with Dottie, someone who'd try to con him like that.

His eyes drifted over to the adjoining wall, wondering how much Casino had heard. Casino. Chief figured he'd get some ribbing from the safe-cracker later; that was okay, wasn't like Casino had done so well last night either. He let a smile come to his lips thinking - well, perhaps not thinking, just let images float through his mind. Til the images became too much for him, and he rolled over and let the images take him away, wondering for a fleeting moment whether he'd ever have more than just those images, just that self-induced fulfillment to bring him the warmth he hungered for. Somewhere in the sleepy fog that followed, brown eyes gazed into his; TWO sets of brown eyes, one set Casino's dark and familiar brown, the other set much lighter, with a definite feminine cast to them. Those eyes held a warm promise, and again, a smile touched his lips, though he never knew it.

Garrison was more self-assured in his recounting, even if it was Julie's big brother sitting there listening. After all, it HAD just been a misunderstanding; he was sure Richards would understand. He shrugged now, "there's nothing much on my side. Julie was kind enough to accompany me, and it was an interesting evening, between the show on the stage and the various scenes in the box." He spared a reproving look for his resident pickpocket, "not that you and Meghada stuck around for much of it," looking over at Richards, shaking his head. "They took off after the second act started - the one onstage, I mean."

That got a snort of laughter from various and sundry alike.

"Ei, Warden! Figured we'd 'ad all the comedy and drama we needed for the night! Can't imagine any of you missed us, anyways."

Casino barked out a laugh, "don't imagine you two missed any of US, either," getting a wicked and sly grin, along with a "well, no. Can't say we did, come to think on it!"

Garrison continued, "I took Julie for a late supper, then took her home. She did ask me in for a drink, and I accepted, which in retrospect was possibly a mistake."

That got him a skeptical look from Richards, "a mistake?"

Garrison flushed, realizing Richards might not be as understanding as he'd perhaps thought, "well, it got complicated. She went to get the glasses, I heard her turn on the faucet, then she let out a yell, and I went running. Seems the water pipe in the kitchen broke loose; it was like a geyser! We both got drenched before I could get it turned off. It got a little loud, I guess. The neighbors along side and downstairs heard the commotion and after she'd repeatedly declined their cummulative offers of help through the door, explaining we had it all under control, one of the men decided she was protesting too much and snapped the lock on the door," sparing a moment to remark to Major Richards - "you really need to see about getting her better locks, or a better door, or something!"

Richards cleared his throat, "back to the subject at hand, Lieutenant?"

Garrison was looking a little uneasy now, "well, they jumped to the wrong conclusion; she'd hurried to get into a dry robe, I was in the process of getting into a spare shirt and trousers of yours she had there; it was rather awkward, to say the least. There was a lot of talk, and giggles, and one of the men from down the hall offered to 'give him a right pasting, Miss, if you want; just say the word!'. All in all, rather awkward."

Richards was the only one without a smile or even an outright grin; in fact his face was downright grim. "Awkward. Indeed, Lieutenant. I'm sure it must have been," came in an exceedingly dry voice.

Garrison knew Julie would be getting a visit from her older brother as soon as he got back to London; he hoped to hell she didn't try to get cute with her answers. He was pretty sure Richards would NOT be in the mood.

His mind flashed back to her ever so subtle warning, "Lieutenant, you tend to talk a bit much about overly personal, well, sensitive matters when you've had a drink or two too many. You should be careful about that."

He just wished to hell he knew what he'd said that would have led to that warning. At least, he THOUGHT he did! 

Richards had just left, Actor poured another round, and Casino just had to start it up again.

"Hey, Warden. About that night, you and the Major's sister. Any of that true, what you were tellin him?"

That brought just a long groan, "Casino, just can it, will you??!"

Julie wasn't home when Kevin Richards pulled into the lot in back of her flat. Well, at least, he assumed so; she didn't answer his knock at the door. Or what was left of her door; he noted that Garrison was right - he, or rather the resident manager, really did need to do something about that battered construction barely in place on its warped hinges. He had a key, but the lock no longer seemed to accept it; he didn't think it was a different lock, but merely the damage had skewed the mechanism. He settled for leaving a note on her door, asking her to call him at the earliest opportunity. He was just turning to leave when he felt the eyes on him, turned to see an older woman watching him from a slightly open door down the hall.

"She's not there, you know. Hasn't been for a day or two. Well, can't blame her, all the fuss and bother. You'd think in this modern time a woman could live her own life without having ever Sam and Sally thinking to get in their opinion! I'll tell you . . ."

He plastered a genial smile on his face, and walked a few steps closer, realizing if he just listened, maybe gave an inquisitive look or two, he'd probably get at least ONE version of what had transpired. He was right. He kept that pleasant look on his face til he got to his car, then let the more appropriate thunderclouds replace it.

"Garrison, blast it all! How dare you! She's my baby sister!" he fumed. Just how he was supposed to work with the man now, he just wasn't sure. His responsibility to Julie, his responsibility to the job - he'd never had that be in conflict before, not to this extent. He was still furious when he arrived at HQ and headed up to his office, returning both to his duty and hopefully to await a phone call from his sister, wherever she might be.

It took another several hours before the phone call came through, and while his tone switched from intense relief at hearing from her to a rather crisp, "very well. I'll be there within a couple of hours," at her calm insistence that they discuss the matter in person, not over an open phone line, along with her ending "and for heaven's sake, Kevin, calm down! You're going to give yourself an ulcer!" 

He expertly tooled the car through the streets of London, pulling up outside the address Julie had given him less than thirty minutes after hanging up the phone. He frowned again, looking up at the sign, 'Hotel Marchant'. This wouldn't have been the first place he'd have thought Julie would have sought refuge, though maybe it was just a bizarre coincidence that this was the home-away-from-home of choice of Meghada O'Donnell and her sisters, AND Garrison's team. He sighed, got out of the car and made his way inside for what he fully anticipated to be a difficult conversation with his sister. 

Henri Marchant had no problem giving him Julie's room number, though he did see the hotelier pick up the phone immediately thereafter, probably to give his guest a heads-up about her incipent company. Well, although Richards didn't really like it, he supposed it HAD been the right thing for Marchant to do. Still, he'd been rather counting on his early arrival and the element of surprise to get some straight answers out of his not-always-forthcoming little sister.

When he left after an hour's conversation, a somewhat heated conversation swaying back and forth from his demand for a full accounting, to her loud rendition of complaints about her flat manager, her neighbors, and her brother and his assuming, interferring ways, he was less than satisfied.

She was lying to him, Kevin was sure of that, at least to some measure. He knew her far too well to think otherwise; well, he'd really acted as a substitute parent for a goodly number of years now. Oh, the broken water pipe would be easy enough to check, and he'd seen for himself the condition of her door. And yes, she'd been complaining for some time about the manager at the flats and his nip-farthing ways, and from other stories she'd told him he could see the man trying to rake in as much money as he could - charging her far more for the repairs to the pipes, to the door than was warranted, if she even WAS liable for such, which seemed questionable; even wanting to charge her a large 'nuisance fee' for all the commotion. She had already been eagerly awaiting the end of her six month lease, having only taken the furnished place in desperation when her old flat had been irreparably damaged in the bombing. The neighbors, yes, he'd heard stories there too, and had experienced first hand the gossiping nature of the lady across the hall. And, honestly, Julie's fervent description of Craig Garrison as having been 'a perfect gentleman, Kevin, I swear!' did coincide with Kevin's own previous opinion of the officer. Still, there was something, something she hadn't been forthcoming about, and he swore he was going to get to the bottom of it, in spite of her protests. 

Though he didn't want to admit it, Julie probably had a point about him being overly protective, he knew that. And yes, she was twenty-six now, no longer a child. Still, from the time he'd returned, at nineteen years of age, from university at mid-term to find his mother once again off on one of her expeditionary jaunts, and his father having left shortly thereafter, now firmly ensconced in his London quarters, and Kevin's seven year old sister in the indifferent care only of the elderly cook and an even more indifferent maid, he'd made her welfare paramount in his life.

Obviously he couldn't keep her with him at university, but he DID find a place close and hoodwinked the family banker into advancing him enough funds to keep a reliable caregiver. The weekend visits weren't nearly enough, but more than she was used to, and he knew he was doing the best he could by her.

Somehow, he'd not found it too surprising when his mother returned several weeks later, this time from Easter Island (or was it Figi? Maybe Vanuatu?), it took her almost a week to discover her daughter was no longer on the premises, and he'd received no demands from her to return Julie, either.

His father was highly annoyed, of course, and had given Kevin a stern lecture on attending to his studies and his responsibilities, "not on being a nursemaid!".

That hadn't been surprising either; Kevin had made his peace with the fact that his father's lectures on responsibility and duty hinged around a man's duty to his country and his peers, never giving a thought that those two things might have a place in connection to the daughter born to he and his wife when they'd both thought themself through with all that. Julie had arrived when Kevin was twelve, had been unexpected, unwanted, and more than a little bit of an embarrassment, to tell the truth. If she'd been a boy, maybe that would have been different, but obviously she wasn't, and there was no place for her. After all, both parents had their OWN interests, and parenting just wasn't counted among them for either one. So Kevin had taken up the reins, and now, all these years later, was having a very difficult time letting go. 

His father had continued to ignore the girl right up until his death from a heart attack several years ago. It was rather telling that when he'd informed Julie of that sad event, she'd looked just a little remote, saying only, "isn't that a bit odd, Kevin? I mean, I didn't even know he had a heart." Yes, it was extremely improper, but he could hardly dispute the matter with her.

Doctor Lois Kilmeade Richards was still above ground, as far as Kevin knew; at least she continued to draw on the family accounts regularly. The last personal communication (if you wanted to term it that) had been almost five years ago, when she'd sent him a request to have several of the texts from the library boxed and shipped to her at her location in Michoacan, Mexico. The brief note contained no personal comments or inquiries. He never bothered to even mention it to Julie. 

In a way, that quasi-parental attitude had shaped a great deal of his character. He looked not just at himself but others around him in perhaps a different way than he would have otherwise. When looking at the boys, then the young men who called on Julie, he found himself looking at them closely, gauging their interest, motivation and intentions with enough of a critical eye as to send some of them scurrying. It had taken only a couple of severe thrashings of two who'd wanted more than Julie wanted to offer and had gotten insistent. She'd come away perhaps more wary but unharmed except in her embarrassment, at least he thought that was the case.

He was surprised to find all that made him judge HIMSELF and his own actions more critically as well, enough the young women he approached found him far older and more stodgy in manner than his years would seem to make sense of. Well, he could hardly behave less honorably than what he expected from Julie's escorts, now could he?

Those females who thought to tease and play coy found themselves alone, being carefully ushered home, given a polite goodnight. The word spread amongst the disgruntled females, "he's just so matter of fact! He doesn't coax, he doesn't give you any encouragement! He understands 'yes'; he understands 'no'; he doesn't understand 'maybe' - he doesn't understand flirting, not in the least!"

If he never really understood his approach was responsible for the decline in the attentions of the ladies he might have tempted otherwise, he just shrugged and accepted that perhaps it was just that he wasn't a very, well, physical person. Women would surely be able to sense that. (It was quite some time later when he'd explain that theory to two of the O'Donnell sisters, and their reaction had been, well, slightly overwrought. Oh, very well, so the term 'hysterical with laughter' might have been better suited! In the end, he would have to admit, much to his amazement, he'd been quite mistaken about the whole matter.) 

That strict way of looking at himself even held over to his interactions with Clan O'Donnell. While he didn't recognize it, Julie could have explained it to him if he'd brought the question to her, which, of course, he didn't. The conflict of mind ran deep: he liked and respected Lupan and Felane. He respected the knowledge and skills the Clan's training imparted to their children and others of the Clan, and frequently made use of those skills, that knowledge. Still, his experience with absentee parents, contrasting with his own protective instincts, led him to think the couple didn't protect their youngsters as much as they should. He didn't doubt their love - that was clearly evident - but the danger they allowed, even encouraged them to pursue, the inappropriate companions they seemed to be at ease about, (both that Newkirk fellow for Caeide, and now Meghada with the little Cockney pickpocket, Goniff) that made him highly uncomfortable, enough he found himself trying to fulfill something of the parental-elder brother role himself. To his bewilderment, no one involved was particularly grateful for his attempts. 

In the hotel room, Julie Richards finally gave way to the hysterical giggles she'd so resolutely held in check while her brother had been there. Yes, she had lied to him, on any number of things. Well, she HAD to, didn't she?

Yes, she'd had a couple more glasses of champagne at the theatre than she was used to; otherwise she probably wouldn't have had the nerve to invite Craig Garrison up to her flat in the first place; after all, she was rather in awe of him.

HE'D had a couple of glasses more than HE was used to, either, or he probably wouldn't have accepted the invitation; in fact, she was increasingly sure of that. Well, that much had become readily apparent after they'd returned to her flat and had a couple of drinks. She hadn't told Kevin that, though, just like she hadn't told him the whole broken pipe thing had happened after Garrison had been in her flat for probably two hours, not right after they'd arrived.

Well, if she had, he'd have come to entirely the wrong conclusion, and the only way to dispell THAT would have been to tell the entire truth. THAT she had no intention of doing. Over the course of the evening she had developed a strong fondness and liking for the very attractive American Lieutenant, not romantic, but rather as if he were another brother. A slightly younger (if not in actual years), very sweet, but definitely self-deluded, brother.

It had been rather endearing, actually, though playing sympathetic listener to the slightly tipsy maunderings of the young American Lieutenant certainly hadn't been how she'd envisioned the evening going. She'd poured them each a drink, intent on making the expected back-and-forth verbal play that just might end up with her giving that new rose pink negligee its debut. She'd owned it for six whole months, and Craig Garrison was the first man she'd had in her flat who seemed as if he might be worthy of it.

At first it had just seemed that sort of casual conversation, and in truth her mind was on how to transition from living room chit chat to something more personal, the appropriate time to excuse herself and slip into that negligee, but as one story followed another, one out-of-the-blue observation turned up in the middle of a subject SHE'D introduced (the observation having no connection at all to that subject, but bringing it back to his main topic), she'd started really listening, watching the changing expressions on his face, hearing the change in tone in his voice, that quick flicker of a smile that reached deep into his green eyes, the nuanced descriptions he was giving.

Stories of the mischief the guys got up to, especially, almost entirely the ones aided and abetted by the redheaded agent that worked for her brother (at least sometimes). Not the missions, certainly, at least not dangerous details but vague recountings of those, along with things NOT involving the military. Stories about the injuries, one particular story about their pickpocket almost not coming home because of stepping in between them and blazing guns - deliberately, to save their lives; about the wonderful meal Meghada had served up in celebration of them all making it back. Stories about the occasional turmoil, comedy or even angst occasioned by Meghada's unexpected attachment to Goniff and vice versa. Oh, there were one or two other stories, but if they didn't end up featuring Meghada along with the guys, then it was Goniff, usually including Meghada's reaction after the fact. 

At first she'd thought she was hearing something similar to what she'd gone through last year, when an old friend, Mark Hastings, had used her as a handy sponge to soak up all his longings and hurt feelings and wistful thoughts about 'the one that got away', another mutual friend Isabel Winters, who'd recently gotten engaged to someone else.

Well, that had made some sense, actually. Garrison and the team worked quite closely with Meghada O'Donnell; if he truly had an interest there, her forming an attachment for the Cockney pickpocket instead would have been a blow. Garrison was looking slightly woebegone and Julie found herself feeling sorry for him.

{"Poor dear. It's not just a crush; he's totally besotted with her!"}.

So she patiently listened to yet another story, another description, and then she realized that of the last three or four, Meghada had played a minor role, if any at all, and then it struck her, and she got strangled on the glass of well-watered whiskey she was sipping.

{"Besotted, yes! But NOT with Meghada! Oh my goodness! And I don't think he even realizes!"}.

No, she couldn't betray those all too revealing emotions, certainly not to her brother. Though she did think she would give Craig Garrison a subtle hint that drinking too much made him far too 'chatty' about personal matters perhaps best left undiscussed; that could prove dangerous if he did something similar with someone not so inclined to his favor. Someone who might pick up on that warm, wistful smile combined with a reference to 'those blue eyes that can somehow go from total innocence to sly knowing to just gleaming with mischief, all in just a few seconds!', and try to cause trouble.

She was rather relieved the interview with Kevin had gone as well as it had, though she had no illusions that it was a dropped subject. She knew her brother all too well; after all, he STILL brought up that time she'd borrowed his magnifying glass without asking, and she'd been six years old when that happened! Never mind all the things between then and now!!

Well, the poor dear had been stuck with her after their parents decided to make themselves scarce, in essence if not in reality. It couldn't have been easy, trying to provide some stability for her when he was still trying to find his own place in life. She winced, thinking Kevin had not yet found that place, not really, any more than she had, wondering if that was in truth her fault.

Before the incident with the broken pipe, when she'd turned on the water (not to rinse glasses for a first drink as she'd told Kevin, but to brew a pot of coffee to bring the rather fuzzy Garrison to something approaching a more sober state), she'd intended to pretty much forget the evening had ever occurred, other than the mere basics. It only seemed the kind thing to do. But then, water was spurting everywhere, they were both drenched and it all hit the fan and that wasn't an option anymore, not after the neighbors had broken in and found her in a robe and Garrison half naked trying to get his trousers fastened. No one accepted the explanations being given, there had been all sorts of words spoken, a heavy handed threat from the big man down the hall, and giggles and sly glances from everyone else, and Garrison was obviously at a loss as to how to make it all go away. 

It had taken her getting re-dressed, packing a small case and prodding him into finding her another place to spend the night - a place WITHOUT a broken door! Well, he'd come through for her, as she might have expected, and she was now comfortably situated at Hotel Marchant. She wasn't sure where he'd spent the night; considering the late hour, she'd hoped it was also at Hotel Marchant, but it certainly hadn't been with her. 

The subsequent interview with the flat manager the next day hadn't gone well, and she'd packed an additional case and returned to the hotel. She intended to go shopping for a new flat today; the broken pipe was not something she'd caused, nor the broken door, and she'd be damned if she was paying that hefty fine for entertaining the nosy neighbors. Maybe she'd ask Kevin to help in her search; that might let him feel all big-brotherish and useful; he did seem to like that. Luckily his job prohibited his moving her in with him; otherwise she could see him insisting on that solution. Well, maybe she'd better NOT ask for his help finding a flat; she could see that causing all sorts of arguments. He might help her retrieve the rest of her possessions from the flat, though; he was rather good at overawing even the most annoyingly or belligerent of individuals. She spared a moment for another giggle, remembering Garrison's team was the obvious exception; somehow, Kevin seemed to have met his match there; well, and with the O'Donnell sisters, of course.

Now there was a thought, if Kevin insisted on pursuing the Garrison incident! Maybe she would enlist the aid of Meghada and her sisters to distract Kevin; heaven knows they could if anyone could! Thinking of Meghada brought her mind back to Garrison and his awkward situation.

{"I wonder if Meghada suspects; I know in theory her people don't have any objections, are quite comfortable with the idea, but under the circumstances, I wonder how she would react if she DID realize what has Craig so perturbed? I can't imagine her giving Goniff up; would she really be willing to share? Great Heavens! Would Goniff?? That's if Craig ever allows himself to figure it out!"}.

One thing Julie was sure of, she needed to keep her nose and her fingers out of that situation, at least for now. If the time came when she might prove of some help to any of them, well, that was a different story. For now, she was just Julie Richards, unseeing, unknowing, going through life in her usual oblivious, ditzy fashion.


End file.
